


The Magpie's Waltz

by BeautifulTendencies



Category: Shades of Magic - V. E. Schwab, Sherlock (TV)
Genre: A Darker Shade of Magic - Freeform, M/M, Shades of Magic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-24
Updated: 2017-11-24
Packaged: 2019-02-06 08:47:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12813933
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BeautifulTendencies/pseuds/BeautifulTendencies
Summary: A tavern, a violin, a beginning.He dreamt that night not of his usual terrors, remnants and souvenirs from the war, but instead of beauty and death and slim fingers dancing across steel strings.





	The Magpie's Waltz

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this nearly two years ago, and never posted it because I told myself that I would make it bigger before I did. I no longer remember where I intended the story to go, but the first chapter works just fine as a short one shot.
> 
> If you are unfamiliar with A Darker Shade of Magic, first of all, its good and I highly recommend you read it, though you don't really need to have read it to understand what's going on. It would probably help to at least know the premise of the book though.

The Stone’s Throw was the kind of tavern where things happened. It wasn’t an odd building, made of the same grey stone smudged with the same strongly smelling unidentifiable substances caked to it’s walls as any other tavern in Grey London. Most of the people in Grey London wouldn’t have known what drew them to it, magic had faded so near completely out of existence in this world, but even the small amount of magic the tavern had was enough.

The tavern drew him too, on the odd nights he needed a drink and didn’t want to be found.

Sebastian watched from a chair in the corner of the crowded bar as the slight man scraped rosin up and down the hair of his bow, much in the same way a soldier might sharpen his sword before a battle. It was the fierceness, he thought, that connected the two. Nothing about the man before him should have suggested the likeness to a battle-hardened warrior; his hands were gentle on the bow, his small frame relaxed where he leaned against a wall, not a single strand of dark hair strayed from perfectly gelled conformity on his scalp. His eyes were what set him apart, irises black and filled with a fire that burned hotter than those in the oil lamps that lit the room as they darted across the space, bouncing quickly from person to person like he was looking for something. Someone.

Their eyes met for the briefest second, and time seemed to stop. Sebastian felt his skin prickle at the man’s small triumphant smile, barely a twitch of the corners of his mouth. Sebastian decided then that he would be leaving early that night. 

Theoretically, the man would be almost sure to lose if it ever came to a fight against Sebastian, he had to weigh little more than half of Sebastian’s bulk, and Seb was a trained soldier; but his instincts told him he was far more dangerous than he seemed, and Seb had learned to trust his instincts.

He felt his heart stutter into a faster rhythm and the other man’s smile widened slightly, showing the tips of bright teeth in the beginnings of an eerie grin, as if he could somehow sense Sebastian’s fear through his carefully indifferent expression. He had learned long ago that to show fear was to die, and the useless thought ran through his head again. 

His fists tightened, one on the handle of the beer mug in front of him, the other twisting into the hem of his loose shirt.

He frowned and glared back at the other while the man’s smile continued to widen.

And then the moment was over and the smile was gone, the stranger’s eyes returning to the bow as he set the small block of rosin carefully on the floor. No, Sebastian thought, the smile was not quite gone. It lingered quietly at the edges of his lips, like a wolf lying in wait. 

He noticed that the other’s eyes no longer scanned the thick crowd, even when the violin was placed carefully under his chin and the bow raised to hover just above the strings. No, now that they had found what they had been after, they looked only to Sebastian. They watched as he stood up, leaving his half-full mug on table and pushed his way out the door, the strains of a cheery drinking song following into the night after him. He felt their gaze even as he strode up the block to the alleyway between two nearby buildings, even as he sliced open his palm with a dagger from his belt to refresh the symbol painted there in his blood on the grimy stone. He couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched even as he pressed the coin to the symbol, muttering words of a nearly forgotten tongue under his breath and passing through the wall into a different night, even when he eventually slipped beneath the covers of his bed.

He dreamt that night not of his usual terrors, remnants and souvenirs from the war, but instead of beauty and death and slim fingers dancing across steel strings.


End file.
